“Who said she doesn’t have a backer?”
Jiang Xingxing spun around abruptly. The moment she saw Shang Jie, it felt like dawn breaking in a chaotic, dark world.
Her unsettled heart found its anchor in that instant.
Shang Jie stood at the banquet hall’s entrance, wearing a long black wool coat. The fabric was slightly damp, his tall figure straight as a blade. Raindrops clung faintly to his hair.
Under the indoor lighting, his pale skin seemed even more radiant, highlighting his sharp, chiseled features: a prominent nose, thin lips like a knife’s edge—he looked as if he were carved from the finest jade.
Elegant and refined, yet exuding an air of detached coolness.
“Let her go.”
He spoke just one sentence, his tone indifferent.
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Ckyd Nwsxy, obs oyp yzalyeu pnyale swv sq bkp okvp, kdpvydvzu alzlyple Kkydt Dkdtmkdt’p byde.
Fbydt Kkl rwzzle bla clbkde bkx yde tyhl bla y nsze tzydnl. “R vsze usw dsv vs eakdj.”
“Fsaau,” Kkydt Dkdtmkdt xwaxwale psqvzu, nzkdtkdt vs bkp pkel zkjl y vkxke ckae. “Rv osd’v byrrld ytykd.”
Rd vbl rypv, obld elyzkdt okvb pwcsaekdyvlp obs ekpsclule bkx, Fbydt Kkl bye dlhla pbsod xlanu.
Jwv dso, qynkdt bkp okql—vbswtb bl alqwple vs ynjdsozletl kv—bl nswzed’v cakdt bkxplzq vs cl yp pvlad yp bl oyp yv osaj. Gqvla y caklq pkzldnl, bl psqvldle bkp vsdl.
“Psd’v zlv kv byrrld ytykd.”
Ms vbspl yaswde vblx, vblka kdvlaynvksd pllxle dyvwayz yde qyxkzkya, yp kq vblu olal zsdt-vkxl qakldep—sa rlabyrp lhld psxlvbkdt xsal kdvkxyvl, yd kely vbyv oyp byae qsa ydusdl vs clzklhl.
Gqvla yzz, vbkp oyp Fbydt Kkl—qyxswp qsa bkp kdekqqlaldnl vs osxld yde ekpeykd qsa vbl tzkvg sq nlzlcakvu nwzvwal. Tso nswze bl rsppkczu cl yppsnkyvle okvb Kkydt Dkdtmkdt, y assjkl ynvalpp obs bye sdzu fwpv pvyavle bla nyalla?
Qian Luoma, drenched in cold sweat, cautiously approached, his voice trembling.
“Mr. Shang, I had no idea Miss Jiang was a friend of yours! If I’d known, I wouldn’t have dared touch her even with a hundred lives!”
Shang Jie’s gaze shifted from Jiang Xingxing to Qian Luoma, his previous gentleness vanishing, replaced by a sharp edge.
“Director Qian, you’re quite the big shot.”
Qian Luoma’s sweat dripped like rain as he stammered, “N-no, not at all! Compared to you, Mr. Shang, I’m just a nobody—a speck of dust! Please, just let me go this time.”
His groveling demeanor drew eye rolls from several directors nearby.
In their profession, especially for directors with aspirations, maintaining a certain dignity was crucial. Qian Luoma’s obsequiousness to power only made him more contemptible.
Seeing that Shang Jie intended to stand up for her, Jiang Xingxing timidly added from behind him, “He also said I was only fit to star in low-grade films.”
Her implication was clear: Punish him! Avenge me!
Shang Jie turned to her and said lightly, “Weren’t you eager to act in those kinds of films?”
Jiang Xingxing: …
Does this man not understand whose side he’s supposed to be on? Can’t he save the criticism for home?
However, in Shang Jie’s mind, while his wife might be fair game for teasing at home, no one else was allowed to bully her. With that, he declared:
“Anyone who invests in Qian Luoma’s films from now on will be an enemy of the entire Shang Corporation.”
The Shang Corporation, a business titan dominating half of the entertainment industry, was not an entity anyone could afford to provoke. For Shang Jie, eliminating a minor director like Qian Luoma required no more than a flick of his fingers.
This public defense of Jiang Xingxing made it clear to all the directors present: she was under Shang Jie’s personal protection. Whether she got roles or not, disrespecting or mistreating her was out of the question.
As they exited the Century Grand Hotel, Jiang Xingxing trailed obediently behind Shang Jie.
“Mr. Shang, slow down, I can’t keep up.”
She was tipsy from drinking and teetering on high heels, nearly twisting her ankle in her effort to keep pace.
Shang Jie stopped abruptly, and Jiang Xingxing, unprepared, collided into his back.
Years of exercise had made his muscles hard as steel.
Thrown off balance, she stumbled against him, instinctively grabbing his waist to steady herself.
“Mm…”
Shang Jie clearly felt two soft cushions press against him.
His temples throbbed as he reached out to steady her, gripping her slim waist.
Her dress was a thin, form-fitting fabric, and in gripping her waist, he felt just how delicate she was.
“Mr. Shang…”
The way she softly strung those three syllables together made even his iron will waver.
Shang Jie quickly let go of her and said in a steady voice, “Attending such events alone and drinking is like walking into a den of wolves. If I hadn’t arrived in time, do you know what could have happened?”
Jiang Xingxing blinked and shook her head. As a former background actress, she’d never had the opportunity to attend high-profile banquets like this.
Shang Jie leaned slightly closer, locking eyes with her as he enunciated each word:
“You could have been taken away and assaulted.”
Jiang Xingxing knew the industry could be messy, but she hadn’t imagined it was as bad as he made it sound. She chuckled nervously.
“Mr. Shang, you’re scaring me. With so many people around, who could’ve taken me away?”
His expression turned colder. Many actresses had started with the same naïve mindset. But a crowded room didn’t guarantee safety. The combination of coercion, temptation, and alcohol often led to outcomes beyond anyone’s control.
Yet Shang Jie couldn’t bring himself to shatter the fragile hope in her clear eyes.
“You are my wife in the eyes of the law. Do you know what that means?”
Jiang Xingxing looked at him blankly and shook her head.
“This means you must not lower yourself to please those people. Right now, they only think of you as my friend or perhaps my lover, so the situation isn’t too bad. But if they find out you’re my wife, can you imagine what tomorrow’s headlines would say? Hmm? “The Young Madam of the Shang Corporation Harassed by a Third-Rate Director.””
Shang Jie didn’t continue on this track. Instead, he shifted the focus: “This isn’t just about my personal reputation. It would even affect the Shang Corporation’s stock value—every second, billions of dollars could be lost. And all of this… stems from your ignorance and recklessness.”
His rapid-fire words left Jiang Xingxing momentarily stunned. She didn’t fully understand everything he said, but the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice told her she had made a grave mistake.
Her eyes turned red.
As an actress, Jiang Xingxing could summon tears at will. But in real life, she didn’t cry often. She knew that tears were a beautiful girl’s most powerful weapon, but it wasn’t hers to wield—so she avoided crying.
Yet Shang Jie’s words had struck a nerve.
“When we got married, you… you didn’t tell me any of this. I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t know it was so serious.” She lowered her head and apologized earnestly, her tears welling up. “I’m sorry, Mr. Shang. I was too willful tonight.”
Shang Jie’s hand tightened beneath his sleeve.
It felt as though an angry, caged beast was crashing against the bars in his chest.
[You’re bullying her! Don’t bully her!]
[I married her to be my wife, not to be some token Young Madam of the Shang Corporation!]
He could feel a blade twisting in his heart. The more she apologized, the worse he felt.
“Enough.” He placed a hand on her thin shoulder. “I was too harsh.”
No—it wasn’t just “too harsh.” It was unbearably harsh.
Jiang Xingxing sniffled, her sobs breaking through. She really felt wronged and needed to let it out.
Shang Jie wiped the corners of her eyes with his sleeve and leaned down so they were at eye level.
“Don’t cry.”
His voice was softer than ever, as though coaxing a child: “I just don’t want anything to happen to you. Understand?”
Jiang Xingxing nodded meekly. “Mm.”
“I have a bad temper,” he admitted. “Making a woman cry is very rude. I’ll do my best to control it in the future. But don’t cry so often—it puts me in a tough spot.”
“I won’t cry often,” she said, her voice heavy with emotion. “As long as you don’t scold me.”
She was glass-hearted1sensitive. She never let others bully her without retaliation. But this man—her husband—was entitled to see her softest side.
“Then it’s a deal,” Shang Jie said gently. “I won’t scold you. So stop crying, okay?”
Jiang Xingxing quickly dried her tears, then grabbed his hand. “I’m so sleepy. I want to go home.”
Her small, soft hand clasped his, and Shang Jie felt like a father holding his daughter’s hand.
But he didn’t shake her off.
The windshield wipers swished rhythmically, the car enveloped in silence.
Lin Chuan glanced at the pair through the rearview mirror. They sat at opposite ends of the back seat. Shang Jie gazed out the window in silence, the passing streetlights casting fragmented reflections across his eyes.
Meanwhile, on the far right, Jiang Xingxing leaned against the glass, nodding off. Her head bobbed like a woodpecker.
To break the awkward silence, Lin Chuan turned on the car’s sound system, intending to play some music.
“This next request comes from Mr. Wang, phone number ending in 9809. He’s dedicating the song ‘Intimate Lover’ to his wife. He hopes she’ll always be a cheerful little bird, and he promises to be a sturdy tree that shelters her from the wind and rain. Let’s wish Mr. and Mrs. Wang a harmonious and beautiful journey together…”
Jiang Xingxing opened her drowsy eyes.
“Turn it off. It’s noisy,” Shang Jie said.
The implication was clear: Can’t you see my wife is trying to sleep?
Lin Chuan obediently switched off the music.
A draft of cold air seeped in through the window. Jiang Xingxing shivered, instinctively hugging her arms for warmth.
Her thin dress clung to her figure, accentuating her curves. Shang Jie couldn’t help but glance twice.
She sneezed twice in quick succession, covering her mouth.
Suddenly, a black wool coat draped over her shoulders, still carrying his residual warmth.
Startled, Jiang Xingxing looked at Shang Jie. His crisp white shirt outlined his tall, well-proportioned frame as he adjusted his cuffs, not even glancing her way.
“Mr. Shang, I’m not cold,” she said, then sneezed again.
Shang Jie closed his eyes, pretending to rest.
Jiang Xingxing obediently put on the coat. It was oversized, enveloping her petite frame. The sleeves extended well past her hands, so she struggled to pull them out, wrapping the coat tightly around her.
She could smell his clean, fresh scent and feel the warmth lingering on the fabric.
Scooting closer to him, she found he didn’t react, so she moved all the way to sit beside him.
Lin Chuan tactfully adjusted the rearview mirror to avoid looking at the two in the back seat.
Jiang Xingxing obediently rested her head on Shang Jie’s shoulder.
Shang Jie slowly opened his eyes, his long eyelashes fluttering slightly as he gazed down at the woman beside him.
She nestled against him like a clingy cat, her small head resting on his shoulder. Her demeanor was gentle, without any pretense or flattery—she genuinely regarded him as her husband, relying on and trusting him completely.
Shang Jie felt regret for the harsh words he had spoken earlier. Those words were intended to deter her, not to hurt her. Yet, contrary to his expectations, she didn’t request a divorce. Instead, she quietly leaned on his shoulder, treating him as her safe haven.
Shang Jie could feel that she needed him—emotionally and financially.
Growing up in a powerful and competitive family, Shang Jie had developed a worldview that only the strong survive. In such an environment, cousins and relatives were both kin and competitors. Victory belonged to the powerful; cold detachment was a means of survival. Ruthlessness was the key to success, and all unnecessary emotions had to be suppressed and discarded.
But as this woman leaned against him, he found himself enjoying the feeling of being needed—a sensation he had never experienced before. Strangely, it was so sweet.
Twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of the villa at Riverside Heights. Jiang Xingxing had fallen fast asleep on Shang Jie’s shoulder, so he made no move to get out of the car.
Lin Chuan glanced back at them and was met with a sharp, silencing look from Shang Jie.
Inside the villa, the family’s golden retriever heard the car engine and began barking excitedly at the floor-to-ceiling window.
Jiang Xingxing opened her eyes to the dog’s noise and realized she had fallen asleep on Shang Jie’s shoulder. Embarrassed, she quickly got out of the car. The golden retriever bounded over to her, wagging its tail and circling her in excitement.
She stroked the dog’s fluffy fur, turning to Shang Jie in surprise. “You allowed it inside?”
Feigning ignorance, Shang Jie turned to the butler with a scolding tone. “Who let the dog in?”
The butler: …
[Wow, that’s some convincing acting. Why not try for an Oscar?]
“It was my decision,” the butler calmly replied, quickly adapting to the performance. “The poor thing was caught in the rain outside. I let it in, but don’t worry, young master, it’s been cleaned and won’t dirty the floors.”
“Don’t let it happen again,” Shang Jie said curtly, then went upstairs.
“Thank you so much,” Jiang Xingxing said sincerely to the butler.
The butler gave her a faint, wry smile. If it weren’t for Shang Jie’s approval, he wouldn’t dare let the dog in—no matter how pitiful it looked in the rain. But Shang Jie’s pride and awkwardness were not something he dared to comment on.
The spacious bathroom was filled with warm steam. The servants had drawn a hot bath for Jiang Xingxing, filling the large, spa-like tub to the brim.
Jiang Xingxing sank into the water, her entire body relaxing as the warmth seeped into her skin, her cheeks blooming with a rosy hue.
After about an hour, a maid knocked on the bathroom door. “Madam, you’ve been in there for quite a while.”
There was no response. The maid hesitated, then went to knock on Shang Jie’s bedroom door.
Shang Jie was reading, trying to wind down for the night.
“Young master,” the maid began, “Madam has been in the bath for over an hour and hasn’t made a sound. Do you think she might have fallen asleep?”
Shang Jie frowned. “And now even trivial matters like this need my involvement?”
“You go check on her,” Shang Jie said impatiently. “Don’t come to me for every little thing.”
The maid quickly ran out but returned a moment later. “Young master, Madam is really asleep, and she’s sleeping quite soundly.”
Shang Jie: …
He put down his book and gave the maid a cold glance. “So?”
The maid hesitated and suggested, “Young master, should you perhaps personally carry Madam out? If she stays like this, she’ll catch a cold.”
Shang Jie, now irritated, responded, “Are you saying you’re incapable of doing anything yourselves?”
The maid shifted nervously. “Young master, you usually don’t allow us to touch Madam. Every time she’s drunk, you personally attend to her bathing and everything else…”
Shang Jie: …
This is going too far!
He rubbed his temples, clearly frustrated. “Get her out of the bath. Don’t make me say it a third time, and…” He paused, his tone softening slightly. “Make sure she doesn’t catch a cold.”
The maid, receiving the command, hurried out of the room.
A few minutes later, the door to his room was opened once again. Shang Jie slammed his hardcover book onto the table with a loud thud. “What now?”
The loud noise startled the figure at the door, making her instinctively shrink back.
When Shang Jie looked up, he realized it wasn’t the maid but Jiang Xingxing.
Her damp black hair draped over her shoulders, and her delicate strap nightgown exposed her smooth, fair shoulders. A faint blush lingered on her cheeks from her bath.
Shang Jie couldn’t help but notice the faint outline beneath her nightgown, which hinted at her not wearing a bra. His throat felt dry, and he turned his head to the side. “What is it?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Jiang Xingxing replied nonchalantly, stepping into the room. She held a hairdryer and walked to the vanity to start drying her hair.
Shang Jie’s gaze followed her like a territorial beast, wary and alert. “What are you doing?” he demanded.
The hairdryer’s hum filled the air. With her back to him, she seemed entirely unbothered by his question, engrossed in drying her hair.
Shang Jie turned away, suddenly feeling like he had punched a soft cushion. All his irritation dissipated with no outlet.
She had already treated his bedroom as her own, just as she treated herself as his wife—so naturally and without hesitation that she came into his room to dry her hair.
Finally, the hum of the hairdryer stopped. Shang Jie pinched the bridge of his nose and spoke with a hint of exhaustion. “Go back to your bed.”
Jiang Xingxing, now applying lotion to her delicate hands, paused at his words. She glanced at him with an inexplicable shyness and replied softly, “Okay.”
She stood up, walked over to Shang Jie’s deep blue bed, and lay down. Pulling the blanket over herself, she peeked at him from under the covers.
That coy expression—did she think he was eager to get her into bed for some ulterior motive?
Shang Jie was at a loss. He suppressed his frustration and clarified, “I meant for you to go back to your own bed.”
Jiang Xingxing looked confused. “But this is my bed.”
Shang Jie stood up, walked to the bedside, and looked down at her coldly. “We are only married in name.”
Jiang Xingxing lowered her head, her gaze shifting nervously. She clutched the blanket with her fingers and muttered quietly, “But that’s not true…”
Last night, who had been so forceful yet kissed her fervently, whispering “I love you” over and over, as if trying to merge their souls completely?
Shang Jie suddenly felt as though her pitiful gaze was branding him as a heartless scoundrel.
And for some reason, that made him feel guilty.
“Miss Jiang,” he said, forcing a calm tone, “I think it’s necessary to make this clear. I cannot… sleep with you…”
He paused and chose a more refined term. “I cannot share a bed with you. My current physical condition does not allow me to have intimate contact with women, not even my wife.”
Why did he feel so guilty saying that?
Jiang Xingxing’s eyes grew even more pitiful. “Do you remember what happened last night?”
Shang Jie thought back to the previous night. It had been the first time in his 28 years of life that he had indulged in such unrestrained passion—of course, he remembered.
Last night, the girl had sobbed softly beneath him, her voice trembling as she pleaded for him to go gentler, slower… Her hands clawed at his back, her every movement imprinting itself in his memory.
And that electrifying sensation coursing through his entire body—it was unforgettable.
Shang Jie’s earlobes suddenly burned a fiery red.
Seeing his reaction, Jiang Xingxing knew exactly what he was recalling. Just as she thought—it had to be him. She preferred to treat him as a patient with amnesia; he was just unwell, that’s all.
“Miss Jiang,” Shang Jie said, attempting composure, “I’m not used to sharing a bed with someone.”
Jiang Xingxing couldn’t hold back a chuckle. Who was it then, before, who would crawl into her bed every night just to hold her as he slept?
Shang Jie instantly detected the sting of irony in her laugh, and his earlobes burned even hotter.
No matter what Shang Jie said, Jiang Xingxing refused to budge from his bed. He even ordered the servants to drag her away, but they hesitated, unwilling to confront their young mistress directly.
In the end, Shang Jie had no choice. He walked over, grabbed Jiang Xingxing by the hand, and pulled her off the bed. Jiang Xingxing clung tightly to the blanket, refusing to let go. In his frustration, Shang Jie simply hoisted her—blanket and all—over his shoulder and carried her out of the bedroom to the guest room.
The guest room was smaller than the master bedroom but still warm and inviting. Jiang Xingxing, slung over his shoulder with her head dangling near his waist, felt so dizzy from the swaying that she could barely think straight.
“It’s only the second day of our marriage, and you’re already bullying me!”
Shang Jie replied calmly, “I’m not bullying you. You’re the one bullying me.”
“No, I’m not!”
“Miss Jiang,” he said, his tone polite yet firm, “please stop tempting me. Would you?”
Jiang Xingxing: …
What kind of man says something like that in such a gentlemanly tone?
Oh no, she was falling even harder for him!
As Shang Jie leaned over to place Jiang Xingxing onto the bed, she wrapped her slender arms around his neck. The sudden shift in balance caused him to topple onto the soft mattress with her.
Then, without hesitation, Jiang Xingxing closed her eyes and kissed him.
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